


Begin Again

by seasalt_wolf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Sansa Stark Needs a Hug, Theon Greyjoy Needs a Hug, There will be a happy ending, aftermath of ramsey bolton, arya and sansa are friends, it will all be okay, no weird fighting between sansa and daenerys, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasalt_wolf/pseuds/seasalt_wolf
Summary: Ramsey is gone but that does not mean his actions have gone with them. All Theon does is dream for the sea and wish for peace. All Sansa can do is hold Winterfell together and fall apart behind closed doors. Chaos in the South and the ever looming threat of what is North of the Wall pulls them back together. And slowly but surely, they begin to heal.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Begin Again

His hair is turning white. 

He wakes one morning on their trek back to Winterfell and catches a glimpse of his reflection. It was just the roots then, but now, three days later, there's barely any brown left. 

Theon wants to feel something about it. He should. The boy that he was before Ramsey would have been furious. 

That boy had been dead for a long time now. Instead he just sighs and wrapped his cloak tighter around him. He misses the sea. 

They've been on the road for three days now. It'll take them another week before they reach Winterfell but Theon wishes he wasn't going back at all. The deeper into the North they get, it becomes more clear that the Starks may have reclaimed Winterfell, but the cruelty of the Boltons still hangs in the air. It's choking. 

Kings Landing had been a fuck up from start to finish. The Dragon Queen had been tense and sharp after almost losing one of her dragons to the Night King only a few days before. The presence of Viserion hadn't calmed anyone down either. The dragon seemed to have a particular aversion to the undead Mountain, and whenever he moved, Viserion let out a terrifying hiss. Theon had been waiting for him to open his massive maw and let loose a stream of fire. 

Seeing Euron hadn't been good. For a moment, he swore he could feel Ramseys breath on the back of his neck, barbed words whispered in his ear. And Euron had looked at him and just seemed to know. His smile had been sharp and Theon could smell the smoke, taste the blood. The ground had swayed beneath him for a moment and he was sure he was back on the boat, looking at his sister helplessly before jumping overboard. 

But no matter what, he was Iron Born, and he was Stark. Something inside him made his back steel, and he stood up straight, felt the hate pour over his face and settle in his eyes. His lips had drawn back slightly and for just a moment, Euron had looked surprised. 

The letter that came a day later had just escalated tensions. Jon Snow has been ready to sail back to Dragon Stone with Daenerys, but the arrival of this letter changed everything. Council had been called. He'd been more or less dragged in by Tyrion, who had hissed that he was there to represent the Iron Islands, and this could change everything. 

So Jon Snow was Aegon Targaryen and Theon is so tired. Daenerys looks at Jon (Theon can't bring himself to call him Aegon, and Jon seems to be equally uncomfortable with it) with something close to amazement, and longing. Not the same longing that had been in her eyes a few hours prior, but something that Theon recognised. It's the relief of not being alone. Not being the last person of her line. 

So they set out for Winterfell, and the Dragon Queen flies back to Dragon Stone. He sleeps on the cold hard ground, frost biting into his bones and old scars. He sits on his horse and pretends the movement means he's on a ship. He doesn't talk, he doesn't hold eye contact. And sometimes, when he's almost half asleep, he thinks he hears his sisters voice, calling for him. Calling for help. Something sour twists in his stomach. 

And when he does dream, it is dreams filled with the sounds of hounds baying, the feeling of icy water seeping through his clothes and a shaking pale hand clasped in his. 

******

The first time that her maid laces her into her dress for the day, she seems to find herself back in time. Ramseys hands on her back, pushing her onto the bed. Holding her there. His rancid breath ghosting over her ear. 

She jerks away from the maid so quickly that they both stumble, and the girl has to brace herself against Sansas back so they don't both end up on the floor. It's not the girls fault, but panic tightens itself around Sansas lungs and there's a dizzying moment where she thinks she's going to pass out onto the hard stone slabs of her floor. 

But the girl (Willa, she thinks distantly. Her maids name is Willa) is good, and steadies both of them. Sansa turns slowly, coming back into reality. Willa looks almost scared, like this was her fault. 

"My apologies your Lady, I must have stumbled." She stutters out. Sansa feels so unbalanced it takes a moment for the words to sink in fully. 

"It's no fault of your own Willa. You can go, but please send Brienne in." Sansa just feels tired. Her hands are shaking but she's got them clasped in front of her, it doesn't show. The girl nods quickly and skitters out the room, probably down to the kitchen. 

The longer the open air is on her back, the more tense she becomes. She's so sure that any second now she'll feel those lukewarm hands on her back, tracing over the scars left from Meryn Trants blade, so many years ago. Ramsey would mock her, about how he was hardly the first to put her in her place. 

There's a soft touch on her arm, and her eyes fly open. She hadn't even realised they'd closed.  
Brienne looks down at her with no small amount of concern. She easily dwarfs Sansa, but she never looms the way so many others have. She also seems more comfortable in her skin nowadays, and Sansa can't help the bloom of warmth that happens just under her heart. The North suits Brienne and her ice cold blue eyes. 

"I need you to lace up the back of my dress, please." Briennes hand is still on her arm and Sansa is glad for it. It ground her in the present. 

"My Lady, I'm afraid I'm not sure how to." Briennes voice is unsure, but she does not ask why Sansa sent her maid away, why she's asking her sworn shield to lace up the back of her dress. Sansa doesn't like turning her back to many people, it makes her feel vulnerable, like someone could run a sword through her. 

But she's heard the story of Brienne and the Hound from Arya. She's seen Brienne train Podrick. She knows that if anyone so much as took a step towards her with their hand on their sword hilt, Brienne would have hers drawn in mere moments. 

"I'll talk you through it, don't worry." She replies, softly. Brienne is blushing, a sweep of red that cuts across her cheekbones and nose, highlighting where's it's been broken more than once. Sansa knows that Brienne has gone through a lot of things in becoming a Knight, mainly mockery. Podrick is a dreadful gossip and doesn't seem to expect Sansa to reply to anything, so Sansa knows quite a lot. 

But she smiles are her sworn shield, and Brienne manages a little smile of her own. Sansa steels herself and turns back around, before beginning to instruct Brienne on lacing her in. Brienne knuckles brush over her scars once, and Sansa can't help the ugly fear that rears it's head. But Brienne is smart, and makes sure it doesn't happen again. 

A little later than usual, the Lady of Winterfell leaves her rooms, her sword shield ever vigilant behind her. 

Ever since then, it's been routine. Willa lights the fire, wakes her up and sends Brienne in, who laces her up with hands that are used to the bite of cold metal than they are to soft spun wool. But together, they adjust. 

*****  
She's wearing the same gown she wore yesterday. Once upon a time that would have mattered. Things like pretty gowns seemed to have faded into obscurity with the long winter setting in. All that mattered now was warmth. She likes this gown anyway. She'd sown direwolves onto the neckline. It made Sansa feel strong. 

The hem of her dress brushes across the flagstones of the Great Hall. Lord Baelish's blood had spread quite far after Arya slit his throat but that doesn't disgust her the way she thought it would. Instead the feeling of satisfaction licking up her ribcage. His blood has long been scrubbed off the floor by now. She can't help the smile that slides across her face. 

Arya trials behind her and then sits to her left, immediately (and nosily) devouring her breakfast. Bran is no where to be seen and Sansa feels a little guilty about how relieved she is. She's distracted by Arya elbowing her and shoving more food in her direction. She smiles back at her younger sibling.  
Their newfound friendship is interesting. Sansa does not doubt that Arya is aware she gets up and walks around the grounds of Winterfell in the early hours of the morning. She never catches a glimpse of her sister but she feels the weight of the presence Arya casts none the less. She doesn't mind that they never talk about it. 

Arya is aware of Ramseys cruelty.  
She makes the mistake of approaching Sansa quietly from behind only once. The shattered bowl seemed to shock both of them, as had the burning hot soup soaking through Sansa dress. Arya had seemed no less shocked, shoulders tense and a blade in her left hand in seconds. They had stared at each other for what felt like a small eternity. Arya had turned and left abruptly and Sansa had felt something like shame curl through her. She did not want to be weak in the eyes of another ever again. Especially not Arya, not when their new found relationship was so fragile. 

But Arya marches back into her room that night, anger clear on her face. She'd told Sansa on no uncertain terms that she was going to learn how to handle a dagger. The old Sansa would have cringed at the idea of calluses on her hands from practising training drills over and over again. But now she is glad that she knows how to wield a dagger properly, knows how to move it with a certain amount of deftness. It’s a safety measure. No one else knows but herself and Arya. 

After breakfast, she heads to the rookery. She’s expecting news from Jon on how matters down South had been handled. She knows he was asking Cersei to join the fight against the dead. Sansa thinks it was foolish to even ask in the first place. Cersei would never say yes. She’s also keen to hear what Daenerys, the Dragon Queen was like in person. However when she accepts the letter from Sam (who is now Winterfells stand in Maester) it is not the news she is expecting. For a moment, she wonders if this is a forgery. But it had been Jons seal stamped in the wax. All the breath ruses out of her as she reads the news. Jon is Aegon. A Targaryen, not a Snow ir a Stark. 

The end of the letter brings more shocking news. The Dragon Queen will be flying north in four weeks time, her armies following on foot. She has seen the threat past the wall. She believes Jon when he speaks of the long night that is fast approaching. Jon writes that his aunt (his aunt!) will bring all three dragons with her and is looking forward to meeting the Lady of the North. Her words, Jon writes. He is just looking forward to coming home. He complains of the heat in Kings Landing, along with the smell. At this, Sansa smiles. 

She nods to Sam and turns on her heal. The first place she will go is the kitchens. Jons letter was dated three weeks ago, meaning they only have a week to prepare enough food to feed an army. And after that, she thinks, she’s going straight to Arya. Her sister needs to know. Needs to know about Jon, needs to know of the Dragon Queen coming to them. 

Sansa squares her shoulders, slipping the letter into a pocket of her dress. Then she opens the doors into the kitchen and calls for attention. 

Another day, another hurdle to overcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Well this has been in my drafts for two years. If anyone from the Theonsa discord is reading this, you guys are great and the reason I started writing this so long ago. This is a W.I.P and I can't promise quick updates. But fear not, there shall be updates. Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! I'm always happy to have feedback.


End file.
